Glimpses
by kjcp
Summary: A glimpse into the life and friendship of Merlin and Arthur and the relationship that is soon forged.  Based on the BBC television show.


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**GLIMPSES: From Friendship to More**

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No one was really sure when they became friends. At first they simply annoyed one another. Merlin thought Arthur was slightly pompous, perhaps even pretentious, and most definitely arrogant. Arthur thought Merlin was just an imbecile, edging on having a mental affliction. Somewhere between Arthur ordering Merlin to do all the washing and Merlin saving Arthur's life for the third – or fourth – time, they became friends. It was an unbalanced friendship at best, for Arthur was always in charge. Or at least, he was at first. Then he began to actually _listen_ to Merlin, listen to his advice, his warnings. And he found that Merlin spoke truth. Well, truth nestled between his imbecilic mutterings.

If you asked Merlin, he would say they became friends one day when he was helping Arthur dress in the morning. He had brought breakfast and fresh washing, just as he did every morning. Arthur sat lazily at his table, flipping through a book on drills for knights, stopping to look at the drawings of weapons and formations, his eyes glazing over.

"Took you long enough with my breakfast," said Arthur without looking up. "I suppose you have my shirt as well? It's cold in here."

"If you were wearing a shirt, sire, perhaps you wouldn't be cold."

At this, Arthur did look up. "What's that?"

"Er, the washing?"

"No, in your hand."

". . . the washing?" Merlin offered again.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Your _other_ hand."

"Oh." In Merlin's right hand, he carried a tray with a bowl and an apple on it. "It's breakfast."

"But what _is_ it?"

"Food. Here." Merlin placed the tray in front of Arthur.

"It's lumpy." Arthur picked up the spoon and dipped it into the bowl. He lifted the spoon and turned it, allowing the contents to _plop_ back into the bowl. "What are you feeding me?"

"It's porridge."

"_Porridge_? Why on earth are you giving me porridge?"

"It's all the kitchen could spare." Merlin sifted through the neatly folded laundry, looking for Arthur's shirt. He had hundreds of shirts, but Merlin knew which one he wanted – it was always whatever he couldn't have. He had four shirts that looked exactly the same, white and tailored perfectly. Three were in the wardrobe, but one was in the washing, and of course, that's the one Arthur was waiting for.

"All the kitchen could spare? All the kitchens could _spare_? For their Crown Prince?"

"Well, I do imagine they know who you are by now, sire."

"What are you doing?" Arthur stood and reached across the table, knocking over half the clean shirts and pants, and took the shirt he wanted.

"_Arthur_, those were clean and pressed and-"

"What are you blubbering about now?"

"Oh, just the usual."

Arthur threw the shirt over his head. "I'm not eating that. Go fetch me some real food."

"But, sir, the cooks won't give me anything else. The feast-"

"Sometimes you're such an imbecile."

"Only sometimes, sir?"

Arthur looked back at Merlin. He blinked, as though unsure what to say, and then laughed. "Yes, only sometimes," he replied. "Here, did you see that cut on my back? Perhaps Gaius has something that can help it heal. Its sting is rather sharp." Arthur pulled up the side of his shirt, exposing a nasty cut that ran from the side of his hip to the middle of his back."

"Pray tell, where did you get that?"

Arthur shrugged. "You should know about healing salves and the like by now, since you live with Gaius."

"Perhaps. I do know of something, but it's rather unconventional. Do you trust me?"

Arthur looked into Merlin's eyes, as though studying him. There was a long pause. "Yes, I trust you." Then, a muttering under his breath, "God help me."

Of course, Merlin made everything up. He plucked all the rose petals off one of the flowers in the vase on Arthur's table. He pressed the petals onto Arthur's skin, muttering a healing spell as he went along.

If you asked Merlin, he would say they became friends one day when he was helping Arthur dress in the morning, when he knew Arthur trusted him, more or less implicitly.

XXXXXXX

If you asked Arthur when they became friends, his answer would be completely different. It was be a summer day, sometime over the next several months. Sure, Merlin had become his favorite manservant, but he was still a servant. Merlin was amusing, albeit annoying, frustrating, and completely daft at the same time.

When Merlin entered the room, Arthur sat at his open window, eating an apple, and contemplating the day.

"Good morning, sire," said Merlin. "I see you've got your breakfast, good, good. And you're dressed, also very good."

"What on earth are you muttering this time? Really, Merlin, you ought to have your brain analyzed by a physician."

"Gaius thinks I'm in perfect mental health."

"Gaius is a hundred years old." Arthur snorted. "I want to go riding today."

"All right. Shall I fetch your horse?"

"Yes, go to the stables and saddle two horses. And pack lunch, but don't forget the meat this time."

"Which of your knights is going with you so I can make sure I have the right horse ready? I wouldn't want to give you another reason to yell at me." Merlin went over to Arthur's boots and examined them; he always examined things in Arthur's chambers to determine what was dirty, what was broken, and what should simply be thrown out.

"I don't yell," said Arthur. When he looked at Merlin, he paused. "I don't, do I?"

"Only when I've annoyed you."

"Oh."

"So, once or twice an hour."

"An _hour_?"

Merlin shrugged.

Arthur shook his head. Sometimes Merlin was unbelievable. "No, not a knight. Whatever horse you prefer."

"For me? Are we going hunting? Do you want me to get your bow and arrows?"

"No. It's just a ride. I don't feel like staying inside the castle today."

"I don't understand."

"It's just a ride. There isn't anything else to do until this afternoon."

"But . . . you always find something to do. You don't really have any leisure time."

Arthur opened his mouth to yell at Merlin, but quickly pressed his lips together. He breathed in deeply through his nose, gathering his wits and calming himself down. "I just wish to go for a ride. Today is not a training day for the knights. There are no audiences to be held, no council meetings. The sun is shining. And I. Am. Bored. So I wish to go for a ride. All right?"

Merlin nodded. "Of course, sire." He turned to leave, but as soon as he got to the door, he stopped and turned. "It's probably not my place, but are you all right?"

"Yes."

"Right." Merlin put a hand on the door, but didn't open it. "No, not 'right' at all. Arthur-"

"What did you call me?"

"Er, your name?"

Arthur blinked. They were clearly becoming too familiar if his own manservant wasn't calling him _Prince_ Arthur. Did he always just call him "Arthur"? He couldn't remember; he knew Merlin called him "sir" or "sire" quite often.

"You can't be serious," said Merlin, clearly understanding Arthur's meaning. "Prince Arthur . . . never mind."

Arthur stood and crossed the room. "What is it, Merlin?"

"No, no. I'll go get the horses ready."

"MERLIN!" shouted Arthur.

"See, I told you – you yell."

"Tell me." Arthur was not amused.

"If we were friends-"

"We _are_ friends, Merlin."

Merlin hesitated. "We're not. Well, sometimes we're friends, but sometimes we're not."

"All right, then. If we are friends right now, then tell me what's on your mind."

Merlin nodded. "You have to promise not to put me in the stocks. I don't care for tomatoes." When Arthur nodded, Merlin continued, "I don't think you're all right. There's something weighing heavily on your mind and you're not acting like yourself."

"What am I doing?"

"Does this have something to do with Gwen?"

"Guinevere? Are you mad?"

"Yes, I suffer from a grave mental affliction, but you've known that since you arrested Gwen for being a witch."

Arhur laughed at the memory. "Being in love is the worst affliction of its kind."

"Er, I'm not in love with Gwen."

"But you are in love?"

Merlin hesitated. "Er . . . we're not supposed to be talking about me, we're talking about you."

"Well, I'm not in love with Gwen either."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite," replied Arthur.

"You told me you loved her, but because she was a servant, you couldn't-"

Arthur sighed heavily. "No, Merlin. I did say that once, but I think I was wrong. I know I was wrong. Gwen is lovely, perhaps the most lovely of anyone in Camelot, mostly for her pure heart, but I am not the man for her. She loves Lancelot. I know that, she knows that, and I think Lancelot knows that, but I cannot be sure. It doesn't even bother me that she loves someone else."

"Then what _is_ bothering you, sire?"

Arthur shrugged. "I wish I could explain it. I wanted to love Gwen. I tried to force myself to love her. When we kissed I didn't feel what I expected to feel. It's been bothering me for a while now. Soon my father will choose a wife for me if I cannot find one myself. I don't want to be part of a political scheme, a wife chosen for me out of convenience to my father or to force a treaty or gain more land. I'd rather marry for . . ."

"Love?" offered Merlin.

"If not for love, then I'd at least like to marry someone I like than a complete stranger."

"And you thought your father would let you marry Gwen?"

"Guinevere is lovely, it's true, and she has many fine qualities a man looks for in a wife. She has all the qualities a king would look for, except blood. She has bad blood – but Merlin, what can I do? The pressure continues to grow more and more intense over choosing a wife. My father even suggested Morgana – can you imagine? We'd kill each other before our wedding ceremony was even over."

"Not to mention she's rather like your sister."

"Incest aside," said Arthur, taking another bite of his apple, "I do have to say that no, my father probably wouldn't allow a marriage of prince and servant, but I'd have a better chance with Gwen than with anyone else in the kingdom. The daughters or sisters of my knights are either married, too young, or too ugly."

"No one would want Prince Arthur to marry an ugly bride."

"I'm glad you see reason."

"So let me get this straight. You don't love Gwen, but you want to love Gwen, and even though you don't love her, you want to marry her."

"Sounds about right."

"I'm shocked your head hasn't exploded yet."

"So you understand my moods?"

"Yes. I'll go fetch the horses. A few hours away from the castle will clear your mind."

"I hope so."

"Arthur, how do you know you're not in love with Gwen? Are you in love with someone else?"

_This _was the moment Arthur knew they were friends, when he answered the question honestly and boldly, without any worry of what Merlin would think. He knew they were friends, knew Merlin's friendship was unconditional.

"I don't know," said Arthur. "No, I'm not in love with someone else, but I." He stopped abruptly, his mind changing directions. "I'm figuring some things out, so I may have a better answer in the future."

Merlin nodded, as though he accepted this completely. "Yes, Arthur, I understand. I'll go get the horses now."

"I'll go with you." Arthur pulled on his riding boots and took two apples from the fruit bowl on his table.

If you asked Arthur when they became friends, his answer would be completely different. The day they went for a ride together, Arthur choosing to go with Merlin because he enjoyed his company, his honesty . . . and his friendship.

XXXXXXX

If you asked Merlin when he knew that they were something _more_ than just friends, he'd laugh a little and blush. When it all happened, he knew something was different, that something had shifted, changed, but at that moment, he never would have admitted it to anyone – especially not to Arthur.

"Come to the tavern with us," said Arthur.

Merlin had an armful of armor that needed polishing, tunics that needed mending, boots that needed buffering, and plates that needed cleaning. There was simply no way he would get all this finished before going to have some mead with Arthur.

"Arthur," said Merlin. By now, he had gotten used to saying the Prince's name so informally that neither of them seemed to give it a second thought.

"Merlin."

Merlin glanced at the piles of things in his arms. "Do you see all this? These are the chores you gave me to do."

"So have someone else do them."

Merlin shook his head. "No, no, please don't have me do that. The other servants hate it when I give them my chores to do."

"Tell them I told you to do it. Simple enough, isn't it? I'm a prince and they work in my castle, they should know to do my bidding."

"Yes," said Merlin slowly, "but not _my_ bidding. I'm still your manservant after all."

"Ridiculous. _I'll _tell someone else to do all that. Where's that boy who works in the kitchens? What's his name?'

"Eustace, I believe."

"_Eustace_? What a horrible name."

Merlin shifted the things in his arms.

"Here," said Arthur, "you're just going to drop everything and break something." He reached out and took a few things from Merlin's hands.

"Uh, you don't have to do that."

"I know I don't, but it'll go quicker if I help you and we find Eunice together."

"Eustace."

Arthur shrugged. 'Does it matter?"

"I'm sure to Eustace it does."

Arthur rolled his eyes, as though not caring whatsoever. He walked down the corridor in front of his chambers and towards the kitchens.

"Er, I think he'll probably be in the dungeons," said Merlin. "It's his turn to spread out new straw and throw the old straw out."

Arthur stopped and turned, looking confused.

"You know . . ." prompted Merlin.

"No, I don't understand. How is it possible you know something I don't?"

Merlin grinned. "Very possible. You _do_ know that prisoners aren't given chamber pots?" Merlin felt his cheeks grow hot. "So, er, servants have to change the straw. . ."

Arthur scrunched his face in obvious disgust. "That's possibly the foulest thing I've heard this month."

"Weren't you put in the dungeons before? For a week?"

"Not without a chamber pot!" exclaimed Arthur. "Look, throw all that stuff outside my door. I'll have one of my guards go tell Euan-"

"Eustace."

"-whatever, to clean all that stuff before tomorrow morning."

"I _really _don't think that's fair. It's my job, I'll do it."

"But – _why_?"

"It's my job," explained Merlin. "I'm your servant, not Eustace."

"Your job is to do whatever I say, so if I say, leave your chores for someone else and come drink with me, then it's your job to obey. You're here as my servant, but also you're supposed to entertain me if I need entertainment."

Merlin looked around, trying to understand. "Er, aren't you going to the tavern with several of your friends?"

"Several of the knights are going, yes, but I'd hardly call them my friends. You're my only friend."

"I thought I was your manservant?"

"You can be both. If you keep arguing with me, I'll throw you in the stocks and purchase enough tomatoes for everyone in the entire kingdom to throw them at you – and we both know how much you love tomatoes."

"What if I just do all the chores in the morning," he suggested, not adding that magic would help him finish the task more quickly.

Arthur let out a truly exasperated sigh. "Very well. Let's go."

"I think you just want to see what I look like drunk."

"I have wondered," confessed Arthur.

They left the castle and went through the streets of the city towards the largest tavern of Camelot. Normally it was full of knights from either Camelot or other neighboring lands, looking for a place to rest their swords and have a good time. Normally Uther forbade Arthur from going, not wishing his son to ever do anything that would be an embarrassment to the kingdom, but either Arthur had kept it a secret this night or Uther was turning a blind eye.

The tavern was loud, all the tables full. When Arthur entered, all the men turned and cheered. One of the knights, Sir Elric, got up from the table and offered his seat to Arthur. The prince sat and accepted a pint of ale. Merlin was close behind him and watched as Arthur nodded to the knight next to him, motioning him to move.

"Come, Merlin," said Arthur once the knight had moved.

Merlin sat next to him and looked around the long table, feeling very out of place amongst the crowd of warriors.

"Aren't you a servant?" asked one of the knights.

"Well," began Merlin.

"He's my guest tonight," snapped Arthur, "and if you've a problem, you can go sit at another table."

"That's right," affirmed Merlin with a nod.

"You're supposed to be drinking, Merlin," said Arthur in his exasperated tone.

"Oh, right. Well, hold on." Merlin got back up and went to the barmaid, grabbing two pints of ale. He sat back down and handed one to Arthur and placing the other in front of himself. "I knew yours would be empty soon."

Arthur laughed and nodded in appreciation.

Merlin was mostly quiet throughout the night, listening to stories of war and legend, of training drills and weaponry. He wasn't sure why he was there, except to be the occasional butt of jokes. His head had a warm, swimming feel to it, a feeling not altogether unfamiliar, but still strange. He could feel Arthur next to him, their elbows occasionally knocking together as they reached for their pints.

"And wassit that yeh do exactly, Merlin?"

Merlin looked across the table at a knight named William. "What do you mean?"

"What d'you do? Yer job?" William was a large man, tall and muscular, but when he drank he was notorious for becoming a blundering idiot.

"Whatever Arthur wishes for me to do."

"So yer a slave?"

"Ah. I see," said Merlin, nodding. He could foresee Sir William trying to bait him. "No."

Arthur slung his arm around Merlin's shoulder. "This man 'ere is the best manservant I've e'er had. He does all my washin' and my armor has ne'er looked be'er."

Merlin shook his head. "Be'er?" he repeated.

Arthur turned and looked at him. "Yeah. Be'er . . Beh-er . . . Bet-ter."

"Better."

"Yes! Be'er."

"You are so very, very drunk. I suppose you're going to want me to clean up all the sick once you've thrown up on your rugs?"

"That won' happen."

Merlin did not believe that for a moment. The few times he had seen Arthur intoxicated, it always ended badly – at least for Merlin. He grinned and shook his head. He waited for Arthur to remove his arm, but he didn't. He kept it draped across Merlin's shoulders. The arm felt heavy, but nice at the same time. They stayed like that, so close, for several minutes. Arthur's laughter rippled through his body and Merlin felt the vibrations. He couldn't help but continue to grin at their closeness.

"I'll be righ' back," said Arthur, standing up. Merlin watched him leave, presumably to relieve himself. When Arthur returned, he had another pint. He sat down on the bench, even closer to Merlin than he was the first time. "Tell tha' stery again, Willi'm. About the vitch . . . er, I mean witch."

Clearly, the last thing Arthur should have brought back to the table was more alcohol, which is exactly what Merlin said. Arthur elbowed him in the side and laughed. Then he placed his elbow back on the table and took hold of his drink. His elbow touched Merlins, but when Merlin moved his arm, so did Arthur, and the touch was never severed. Merlin knew his face was becoming flushed. He wasn't embarrassed or nervous. It was a strange feeling that perhaps was from the alcohol, but perhaps from something else.

"You should get your mate a girl," said Sir Elric, coming back over to the table. "He looks a bit like a lost dog in here."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Merlin. "A girl? I don' think Merlin's the type to go after girls. He wouldn' know what to do with 'em!"

"Er, I would," muttered Merlin. "I've kissed girls before . . . and things."

"An' _things_!" roared Arthur. "You hear tha'? An' _things_!"

Merlin removed both his arms from the table. "I don't really have the time for girls. A few of the servants are all right, but I don't fancy any of them. It doesn't matter, though. My purpose isn't to find a girl, it's to serve you, Arthur."

Arthur's smile faltered and he took a long sip from his cup. "Don' give up happiness fer me."

"I'm not. I _am_ happy."

Arthur elbowed Merlin in the side again. "You need more ale. MORE ALE!"

And all the knights cheered.

He knew something was different that night, the way Arthur kept touching him, elbowing him lightly in the side. And once, towards the end of the night, when Merlin made a particularly funny joke (which wasn't even funny by the next morning; it was the ale laughing for them), Arthur slapped a hand on Merlin's knee as he roared with laughter. Only the hand didn't go away quickly; it stayed on his knee, Arthur's thumb rubbing strange patterns into the fabric of his trousers.

If you asked Merlin when he knew that they were something _more_ than just friends, he'd laugh a little and blush, remembering the way it felt to have surreptitious attention from Arthur's thumb on his leg.

XXXXXXX

If you asked Arthur when he knew that they were something _more_ than just friends, he'd laugh and shake his head, and then threaten to throw you in the dungeons. But he knew the day it happened, the day he began to have a sense there was something different about their friendship. It was the same day he had had a meeting with his father and everything about it was more official than necessary.

"It's time you settled for a wife," Uther had said. "It's time for you to choose or I shall choose for you. I'll give you a month and then I will form a union with one of our alleys, unite our lands."

Arthur had left angry and stalked to his chambers, throwing the doors open, and then slamming them shut. He kicked over a bucket, not realizing it was full of water.

"HEY!" cried Merlin. "I was using that!"

"What are you doing?"

"Washing the floor."

Arthur looked at Merlin who was kneeling on the floor. "Why?"

"It's dirty."

Arthur shook his head. "But why?"

"Because we walk on it and sometimes our shoes are dirty. . . ? Are you all right?"

"I mean, why are _you_ doing it?"

"You banned all other servants from entering your room. I'm the only one who has permission."

"Oh." Arthur vaguely remembered. "Really? Well, stop. You look ridiculous."

"I'm a servant, I'm supposed to do tasks like this."

"You're not to ever do that again. Get up."

Merlin stood, wiping his hands on a dry towel on the tabletop. "You look upset. What's wrong?"

Arthur sat on top of the trunk that was at the foot of his bed. He ran his fingers through his hair. "My father wants me to marry."

"Oh. Is that necessary?"

Arthur nodded. "If I don't marry I cannot carry on the Pendragon line – someone else will be named king once I died, someone who wasn't part of our bloodline."

"What if you don't have a son?" asked Merlin, sitting on the trunk next to Arthur, yet still a safe distance away.

"Even a daughter could be queen and still a Pendragon." Arthur sighed in frustration. "He gave me a month to find a wife or else he would arrange one for me. If he does it, it won't be for love. It'll be with someone who best suits _him_ politically. It will have nothing to do with who suits _me_ best."

"But perhaps you can find someone you like in a month and maybe the love can grow from there."

Arthur turned and looked at Merlin. "Does it not bother you that I might marry?"

Merlin looked confused; it was an expression Arthur had come to expect from him. "Why would it bother me? I always expected you would one day marry."

"Because then we couldn't be friends."

". . . Why not? I don't understand."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "We go riding together. Hunting. I make you entertain me. I take you with me when I go to the tavern and drink ale. You think all of that would still happen if I were married?"

"Yes?" offered Merlin. "But clearly that's the incorrect answer, but my mental affliction is getting in the way of my understanding."

"A wife would have to come first."

"Of course she would, but I don't come first anyway. I'm your servant."

"Oh, come off it, Merlin. You're hardly a servant. You're my companion and everybody knows it." Arthur sighed yet again. "No one takes you seriously as my servant. You fetch things for me, sure, but I told you never again to wash my floors – something a servant would do. You're my friend, so let's clear that question up now."

When he looked at Merlin, the boy was grinning and his cheeks were red. "I do enjoy being your friend," said Merlin slowly. "I would understand if we couldn't spend time together once you're married."

"I don't want to sacrifice anything to marry for the benefit of my father."

"So don't," said Merlin. "You could always refuse."

Arthur shrugged. He looked at his hands and then back at Merlin. He studied the boy for a moment, taking in notice of his dark hair, his slender frame. He laughed as Merlin scrunched his nose and scratched the side of it.

"What's so funny?"

"Just you and you don't even mean to be."

Merlin smiled. "You know, I do suspect a wife would . . . change things. You couldn't be seen flirting with the barmaids."

"Do I flirt with barmaids?"

"No, but if you were married you couldn't start."

Arthur sniggered. "Right."

"Your wife wouldn't let me wake you up in the morning."

"No, I suppose she wouldn't."

"And she wouldn't like the way we play cards late at night."

"No, that would have to stop."

"She would definitely not enjoy the jokes we tell when we've had a bit of alcohol."

"No, that would be absolutely forbidden."

"And she'd kick me out of bed."

Arthur's heart skipped three and a half beats and all of the hair on his body stood. His skin felt suddenly very, very cold. "That only happened once."

"Four times."

"And we were quite intoxicated."

"I don't suppose that really matters in the morning when your wife wakes and sees me passed out at the end of your bed."

Arthur thought back. He remembered twice when he was in a right foul mood and Merlin came to the rescue with mead and wine. Of course, he had made Merlin drink with him. Merlin was skinny and couldn't hold his liquor the way Arthur could, so the first night he was so drunk he fell over on the floor. Arthur tried to wake him, but when it was clear that Merlin was out cold, he picked the boy up and tossed him at the foot of his bed. For a moment, he thought he should have left him on the stone floor, but after two more goblet-fulls of wine himself, Arthur passed out as well.

Memories of how uproariously amusing Merlin was while intoxicated prompted Arthur to get him drunk again. The second time happened much like the first. Arthur couldn't remember any other occurrences, but it was entirely possible he passed out before Merlin and that when he thought Merlin was coming to wake him in the mornings, that Merlin had never actually left the night before.

"I don't think I'd like if you were married, but that would be selfish of me as well."

Arthur was surprised to find himself so pleased. He didn't want to be pleased, but he couldn't help his natural reaction. He supposed _he_ was selfish as well. He wanted to keep Merlin all to himself. He didn't want to share their friendship. He didn't like when Merlin did chores for anyone else in the castle and felt a surge of jealousy whenever he saw Merlin laugh with Gwen or any of the other servants. Part of him didn't feel that he and Merlin could ever _truly_ be friends, for deep down he was a prince and Merlin a servant. It would make sense for Merlin to make friends with other servants, but Arthur didn't like it, he never liked it.

"It's all right. I think I'd rather just live my life the way it is than complicated it with a wife."

"You may not be able to control that."

"True."

"You've always fancied Gwen a bit," said Merlin, "or at least enough to make her your wife. She would be very understanding of her role, I think, especially if you allowed her to continue to see Lancelot."

"It would be a lie."

"She wouldn't care if we played cards or went for week-long hunting trips."

"When have we ever gone on a week-long hunting trip?"

"Well, never, but it's a bit like flirting with barmaids, isn't it? If you married, we'd never get to do it."

"But you think Gwen would allow it?"

Merlin shrugged. "I think Gwen is a clever girl. She would understand." Merlin scooted his body over until he was sitting right next to Arthur, their hips touching. Merlin cleared his throat as he put his arm around Arthur's shoulders. "I've never had a friend like you before. You're probably the best friend I've ever had."

"What of Will?"

"It was completely different. Will and I – well, we were friends, but not like _we're_ friends. If you don't want to be married, then it makes sense to marry someone who would make married life the least complicated."

Arthur nodded, seeing Merlin's point. He closed his eyes, taking in the sensations of having Merlin's arm around him. Merlin's hand rested on his shoulder and Arthur reached over and took hold of that hand and held on to it. He liked the secure feeling that this gave him. The weight of Merlin's arm, the feel of skin against skin as their hands touched, the smell of soap that always surrounded the boy. It was all intoxicating, perhaps even more-so than alcohol.

If you asked Arthur when he knew that they were something _more_ than just friends, he'd laugh and shake his head, and then threaten to throw you in the dungeons. He would never admit it, never speak the words, but he _knew_ it when he realized he'd rather have a friendship with Merlin than a wife to wake up to in the mornings.

XXXXXXX

If you asked Merlin when their first kiss was, he'd admit it would be a different answer than Arthur's. The castle was under attack of magic – _again_ – and someone had poisoned Arthur – _again_. Gaius tried to make an antidote, but it was difficult, not knowing what poisoned was used. Merlin was beside himself. He had barely slept for four days, staying by Arthur's side.

"I can take over," said Gwen, bringing Merlin some food. "I can keep cold compresses on his head and alert you if anything changes."

"Gwen, I – you know I would except-"

"Except he doesn't like for anyone that isn't you in his chambers. Everyone in the castle is aware. Although, I'm sure he would allow the exception for Gaius and for you to get some sleep."

Merlin shook his head. "No, you don't understand. . . ."

"I understand," said Gwen quietly. "What if you just sleep in here? But you must sleep, I insist."

Merlin hesitated, but nodded. "Yes. That's probably a good idea."

"I am full of good ideas. Here, eat." Gwen motioned towards the bowl of stew she'd brought from the kitchens. She crossed the room and took the compress from Merlin's hand.

"Thanks," said Merlin. "You're right. Wake me if anything changes, all right?'

Gwen nodded. "Of course."

Merlin barely ate any of the stew before he fell asleep, his head on the table. He slept and slept. His dreams were an enigma, caught on repeat, playing over and over again in his head. He kept running to save Arthur, who was standing at the edge of a cliff. Arthur would jump and sore through the air for just a short moment before falling, falling, _falling_. Merlin would run and jump off the cliff himself. He'd fall for a little while, trying to catch up to Arthur. Then his magic would save him, make him float in the air, keep him from hitting the ground. And he'd glide down towards the earth at the bottom of the cliff and when he landed, Arthur was nowhere in sight. He only woke when Gwen shook his shoulder.

"Merlin," she said, "it's morning. Nothing's changed, but I've got to work. I'm sorry."

Merlin felt groggy. "How long did I sleep?"

"Ten hours."

"Really?" Merlin sat up and blinked against the sunlight coming through the window. He could hardly believe he slept for so long without waking. "He's the same?"

Gwen shook her head. "No, his fever is less."

"That's wonderful!"

"Uther came in to check on him and Gaius gave him another dose of the antidote he made. You slept through everything. You're the most loyal servant I have ever seen."

Merlin smiled. "Thanks. I think."

Gwen nodded. "Even Uther commented on your loyalty and wanted me to thank you for taking good care of Arthur."

"He does come visit his son once an hour," admitted Merlin. "But he has a kingdom to run, he can't be here every second – it's my job to protect Arthur anyway."

"I'll come back later to bring you food, all right?" Gwen smiled and gave Merlin's shoulder a soft, reassuring squeeze.

As she left, Merlin went back to Arthur's bedside. He placed his hand on the compress on Arthur's forehead, whispering an incantation to make it ice cold. Indeed, Arthur's fever was less and he was moving – well, twitching – as though stuck in a bad dream.

It had been almost a week and Merlin had never felt so upset, not even when Will died, which Merlin would not likely admit. If Arthur died, Merlin would be broken, he'd be only half a man, with half a soul.

"Please don't die," whispered Merlin. He rested his head on Arthur's bed, his cheek against Arthur's arm. "Please."

Arthur twitched again, startling Merlin. He lifted his head and looked at Arthur. The prince's eyelashes fluttered against his cheek.

"Oh my god," muttered Merlin, "he's waking up." He removed the compress and felt Arthur's forehead. It was cool. He felt his cheeks, then his neck, his chest. Every part of Arthur felt as though it had returned to normal. Merlin was filled with inexplicable joy. He put his hands on either side of Arthur's face and bent down, kissing him. His lips rested on Arthur's for only a moment before he removed them.

Arthur woke immediately, coughing and groaning. "Oh my head. Why're you looking at me like that? Why are you grinning? Wait. Are you _crying_?"

Merlin laughed. "No, I'm not crying. Not crying at all."

If you asked Merlin when their first kiss was, he'd admit it would be a different answer than Arthur's. It was a kiss out of joy, one he knew Arthur wouldn't remember, but he did it because he thought, perhaps, it would be the only chance he'd ever get to kiss Arthur.

XXXXXXX

If you asked Arthur when their first kiss was, he'd get very serious as he remembered. He felt it was a very serious affair, something that should never be forgotten. It was unexpectedly expected. Arthur had known for a while that he wanted to do it, he wanted to kiss Merlin, but he had never allowed himself that indulgence. He was harsher than he normally was, began to delegate more chores to Merlin than he ever had before. He pushed Merlin away, hoping to put enough distance between them that a kiss would never happen. Arthur didn't know of any man who wanted to kiss another man. It was vile, wrong.

Arthur went to the tavern one night without Arthur. He drank with Sir Elric and sought out a barmaid. He knew the rooms upstairs were used for drunken sex that was bought in either money, food, or trade. He told Sir Elric to speak of this to no one, and went upstairs. At the end of the hall he saw a young man, barely twenty. He asked the barmaid who he was. She responded by saying that some of the men wanted him instead of any of the girls. Arthur was so shocked by this revelation that he thanked the barmaid, handed her more gold coins than she'd asked for, and left.

Since that night, Arthur couldn't help but think about Merlin. Clearly some men thought about other men, enough to solicit them in a bar. What Arthur found to be so unbelievable was that he had never heard of these indiscretions before. The stories he'd heard of men with other men were always full of violence and debauchery, but the men who frequented the tavern weren't violent men, they weren't mean or immoral.

A few days later, Merlin had come to wake Arthur and bring him breakfast. Arthur was already awake and dressed, standing by the window.

"Here's your breakfast, sire," said Merlin.

Arthur hadn't heard Merlin call him "sire" in such a long time; it was a bit unnerving. "Put it on the table. There's a pile of clothes that need washing and a few tunics that need mending. I'd also like my bed linens cleaned and changed and these draperies are dusty. You haven't been paying enough attention to your duties."

Merlin looked hurt. He blinked a few times, that same confused look upon his face. "Yes, sire," he said. He looked over at the pile of clothes near the door. "Arthur . . . have I done something to offend you?" The confused look intensified; Arthur had never seen him look so worried.

"No, of course not."

"Because you're not being yourself. You used to tell me you didn't want me to do chores and now . . ."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know. I'm fine."

Merlin crossed the room and stood in front of Arthur. "Please tell me what's going on." He reached out and touched Arthur's shoulder.

"Don't touch me," said Arthur softly.

Merlin dropped his hand. "Sorry, sire. I will leave you alone."

As he turned to leave, Arthur stopped him. "Wait." He reached out and grabbed Merlin's arm, turning him around. "I don't know what's wrong with me. . . . My father is in talks with another king about me marrying his daughter."

"Which one this time? Hasn't this been going on for months? He never finds a match politically suitable enough."

"This one seems more serious," confessed Arthur. "How does that make you feel?"

Merlin looked away. "I don't know."

"Tell me how that makes you feel!" demanded Arthur.

"I don't like it!" cried Merlin. "Of course I don't like it! You know that. Sometimes I think _you're_ the imbecile instead of me!"

Arthur couldn't help but grin. He loved when Merlin made completely inappropriate outbursts. "Yes, perhaps you're right."

"Are you – are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I haven't been treating you fairly, have I?"

"Sire, you're still holding my arm."

"I know."

"Sire?"

"Stop calling me that."

"What shall I call you, then?"

"Just Arthur. Will you look at me, please?"

Merlin lifted his eyes. "Arthur, what's really wrong?"

"What's the real reason why you don't want me to marry?"

"Because it wouldn't make you happy."

"Is that all?"

"And our friendship – if you still want to be friends – wouldn't be the same."

"Anything else?"

Arthur watched as Merlin swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. Merlin wet his lips with his tongue and spoke slowly and carefully. "I'd rather have you all to myself." There was a long pause where they both looked at one another very intently. "Like it's been in the past, of course," he added quickly.

"You want me all to yourself?"

Merlin shrugged. "What can I say? You have the best wine in all of Camelot. Arthur, I think my arm's falling asleep."

Arthur didn't let go; instead he pulled Merlin closer. They continued to look at one another, neither of them moving. Arthur looked at Merlin's mouth, staring at it. Then it happened. Arthur wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly they were together, their mouths meeting, their lips touching.

Arthur pulled back, shocked, his legs feel slightly unstable. He waited, but then Merlin leaned forward and kissed him again, this time with more force. The first kiss turned into a second, then a third, then a tenth. They kept kissing, each time with more depth, more duration. Their tongues met and Arthur forgot to breathe for so long he nearly choked.

"I find it best to breathe through my nose whilst kissing someone," said Merlin with a very serious tone.

"Oh really? Because you've had so much experience with kissing."

"I've kissed girls in the past."

"Ever a boy?"

"I don't really think you're a boy," said Merlin. "Are you really going to keep talking or can we kiss again?"

"You're so cheeky sometimes. I am your Crown Prince – how easily you forget."

"Right, I'm sorry, my Lord. Please forgive me and breathe through your nose."

Then Merlin was kissing him again. Arthur turned them both around and pushed Merlin against the wall behind next to the window. He pressed himself against him, winding his fingers into Merlin's dark hair. His lips found Merlin's jaw, then his neck, and he bit the thin skin at the boy's collarbone. Merlin moaned a sweet sound, surging on Arthur's kisses and forcing him to return to Merlin's mouth.

If you asked Arthur when their first kiss was, he'd get very serious as he remembered. He felt it was a very serious affair, something that should never be forgotten. It was unexpectedly expected. Arthur didn't talk about it often with Merlin, but whenever he thought about it, a smile would cross his face.

XXXXXXX

If you asked Merlin when the first time he and Arthur made love, he would smile and be able to tell you every moment in detail. It was something he thought about often, because he could never quite believe that Arthur would ever want him.

They had kissed a few times, undressed each other with their eyes more times than with their hands. They'd touched each other with their fingers, the first few times it was Merlin's hands on Arthur, but Arthur himself seemed ready to try soon enough.

The King was away, visiting another kingdom, trying to arrange the parameters of Arthur's impending marriage. Arthur instructed the guards to keep all servants away from the entire corridor where his chambers were. He said he wanted silence because he had a headache, but really, he just didn't want any rumors or speculations if anyone realized what was happening behind his chamber doors.

Arthur pressed Merlin down on his bed and kissed his body. They were both hard, growing more aroused as their bodies ground against one another. Merlin pushed against Arthur, flipping him until he was on his back. He kissed Arthur's mouth, trying not to smile as he did so. There were no words to describe how _happy_ he was to be kissing Arthur.

His lips trailed down Arthur's body, his teeth grazing his skin. He let his hands roam, his fingers moving across as much skin as they could touch. He wanted to memorize each scar, each indentation, each curve. He wanted his lips to learn the tender spots, the places that made Arthur moan and arch, that made Arthur grow hard. It was wonderful to be learning so much about Arthur, learning what turned him on, what didn't. Learning the ways their bodies fit together, learning the ways that made their two halves into a whole.

Merlin kept kissing Arthur's body. His lips trailed over Arthur's thighs until they opened and took all of Arthur into his mouth. It made him feel powerful, the way Arthur rolled his hips and grabbed hold of Merlin's hair, as though holding on for dear life. Merlin could taste Arthur and knew he was close, so very close. He took his mouth away, kissing his way back up Arthur's stomach and chest. He looked at Arthur, wanting to see the desire in his eyes.

"Do you trust me?" asked Merlin.

Arthur nodded. "You don't have to ever ask that."

"Good." Merlin moved off Arthur. He sat on his knees and took hold of Arthur's arm, pulling him until he was draped behind him.

"What are you doing?"

Merlin looked over his shoulder. "You said you trusted me."

Arthur nodded. He kissed Merlin's shoulders and back. "Are you sure?"

"I trust you, too," was Merlin's answer.

Arthur kissed Merlin again and began using his fingers on him, trying to ready him before pushing himself inside. Merlin knew Arthur had done this sort of thing in the past – well perhaps not _this_, but he had been with women before. It showed, for Arthur seemed to know to be careful, to move slowly, to whisper things in Merlin's ear.

The movements were slow, steady. Merlin could feel just how hard Arthur was inside him. Knowing that he, Merlin, was turning Arthur on, arousing him, made Merlin smile. The feel of their joined bodies, the shared _want _and _need _was overwhelming and Merlin felt Arthur come. They both collapsed on the bed, breathing deeply. They stayed that way for several moments before Arthur reached his hand to grab Merlin, but found him soft.

"What happened? Didn't you like-"

"Don't," said Merlin. "Don't think that. I was just concentrating on you and – I think next time will be different."

"Hopefully." Arthur used his hand on Merlin again. "I like you hard in my hand."

"Me too," replied Merlin breathlessly.

If you asked Merlin when the first time he and Arthur made love, he would smile and be able to tell you every moment in detail. He loved it, loved the feeling of Arthur so close, loved the way he was able to bring Arthur to completion. It was all perfection.

XXXXXXX

If you asked Arthur when the first time he and Merlin made love, he would be very quiet, although knowing the answer immediately. It wasn't the same first time as Merlin's. It wasn't even their second, third, or forth time. In fact, they had been together so many times already that Arthur had lost count. The question was about _making love_ and love was something Arthur took very seriously.

He'd been with women in the past, never more than a time or two. At first, he had wanted Gwen, wanted to be able to be with her in the ways most men want to be with women. He kissed her, even fondled her, but the yearning didn't last. He had wanted to more than he had with any other woman in his past. She was good and kind and beautiful, but it wasn't enough – it wasn't right.

When he first kissed Merlin, Arthur felt a surge of something he hadn't felt before, something he hadn't felt with Gwen but had wanted to. When Merlin first put his hands on him, he had grown harder than he ever had. He had never wanted to come so badly before, and when his orgasm was pulled from his body, he felt empowered, bold and fulfilled. When the first time he entered Merlin, was surrounded by his body, he understood the meaning of completion. But the first time they made love was different.

Arthur was very serious about this, as he was about most things. It taken a lot of thought and reflection for him to come to certain conclusions. First he had to conclude that he had an interest in men. Second he had to conclude he had an interest in Arthur. Third he had to conclude that the physical relations that they had was not just casual, but an act forged from love.

It was winter and very cold. The castle was already drafty and the unusual cold was putting everyone in a foul mood. Uther had disbanded his council meeting early so everyone could go home and get in bed where it was warm; no one in the city had ever remembered a winter such as this. Arthur was glad for the early turn-in and in front of the royal court, ordered Merlin to fetch extra blankets for his room. Merlin bowed ridiculously and quickly left the room with a, "Right away, sire!"

As soon as Merlin made it into Arthur's chambers, Arthur bolted the door and pushed Merlin against it. Their lips met and Arthur pushed Merlin's coat off his shoulders. He raised Merlin's shirt and pulled it over his head – only to find another shirt. He took that one off as well and expected to find skin, but founded himself looking at yet _another_ shirt.

"How many layers are you wearing?"

"Uhm." Merlin looked deep in thought. "Four shirts and three pairs of pants."

"Are you quite serious?"

"Quite. It's _cold_ outside."

"Then let's get under all these blankets you brought me," said Arthur. He steered Merlin towards his bed, doing his best to take off their clothes quickly without ripping any of the fabric. He pulled back all of his blankets and sheets and pushed a naked Merlin down onto his bed. Arthur climbed on top of him, pulling blankets over them to keep them warm. Merlin shook with cold. "Let me warm you up," whispered Arthur, kissing Merlin.

Merlin reached his hand between them and took hold of Arthur.

"No." Arthur removed Merlin's hand. He took both of Merlin's hands and placed them over his head. "Not now."

"But I always-" began Merlin.

"I know," said Arthur, "I know, but tonight I don't want you to love me, let me love you."

Merlin opened his mouth, as though to say something, but then closed it. He blinked several times and had that old, confused looked upon his face.

"What's wrong?"

"What did you say?"

"I said, 'What's wrong?'"

"No, no, before that."

"I don't know, what did I say? Why're you looking at me like that? Stop it."

"You said you wanted to love me."

"Yes," replied Arthur, "I want to love your body. . . ."

Merlin nodded. "Yes, of course."

"Why're you still looking at me like that?"

"I don't know."

"Well, stop it. I'm going to kiss you now, so you need to get that look off your face."

"Yes, of course," repeated Merlin.

Arthur rolled his eyes before kissing him. He loved Merlin the way Merlin always loved him; first with his hands, then with his mouth. He wasn't sure how Merlin would taste or feel against his tongue, but he could feel the arousal, the warmth of his body. He loved on Merlin with his mouth until he thought the boy might come and then he kissed his way back up Merlin's body. Merlin reached for him and brought him down, kissing his mouth hard.

"That was amazing."

Arthur agreed; he wasn't sure how he felt about it at first, but he had wanted to try and the sounds Merlin made and the way his body moved turned Arthur on. Arthur laid down on his back, placing a pillow underneath him, the way they usually did with Merlin.

He pulled Merlin on top of him.

"Arthur . . . are you sure? I don't mind if you want to do it to me-"

"No," said Arthur, "I want this."

"Are you sure?"

"Stop asking me."

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just – you're usually in charge, you know? And-"

"_I_ want this. It feels so bloody amazing when I do it to you, I want you to feel that. What is the matter with you? Get on with it."

Merlin laughed and his whole body flushed red. He had already used his hands on Arthur before, but he did this time again, placing his fingers inside and touching that secret place that always made Arthur curse with arousal.

"_Damn_, Merlin, that's good," breathed Arthur.

Merlin kept smiling. Arthur smiled, too, although part of him was still worried. He felt Merlin push into him, felt pain and pleasure mixed together. He did his best to keep his eyes on Merlin, trying to discern all of the emotions on his face. Merlin slowed his pace, bent his head, and kissed Arthur. He came quickly, much more quickly than Arthur did on their very first time.

Merlin all but fell on Arthur and held him close. Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin, kissed his neck, his shoulder.

"I love you," Merlin said into Arthur's skin.

Arthur pushed against Merlin until the other boy lifted his head. "Look at me and say that."

"Why?"

"So I know what your eyes look like when you mean it."

Merlin swallowed. He kept his eyes on Arthur's as he said, "I love you."

"Me too," said Arthur.

"You too what?"

"You know – me too."

"You don't want to say it?"

"Well . . . I . . ."

"Oh my god, you're embarrassed!"

"I'm not," insisted Arthur. "You're so annoying, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged. He moved to Arthur's side and placed his head on Arthur's chest. Arthur's fingers tangled themselves in his hair and he kissed the top of Merlin's head. The silence was long, but companionable.

"I, er . . . I love you, Merlin."

Arthur could feel Merlin's smile burning into his chest. They lay like that a moment longer. Merlin grinned again and disappeared underneath the blankets, taking Arthur straight into his mouth. They made love to one another the rest of the night.

If you asked Arthur when the first time he and Merlin made love, he would be very quiet, knowing the answer immediately. The answer would probably differ from Merlin's, simply because the moment Arthur was willing to open up his own body for Merlin, the joining of their bodies became an act of love.

XXXXXXX


End file.
